


Where the Heart Is

by SilverCyanide (LemonFairy)



Series: A Peculiar Trio [4]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Genderqueer Character, Genderqueer!Enjolras, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Self-Harm, Trans!Eponine, self-injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-31
Updated: 2013-05-31
Packaged: 2017-12-13 12:45:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/824457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LemonFairy/pseuds/SilverCyanide
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras wasn’t expecting to spend zir night patching Grantaire up, but that doesn’t matter. What matters is ze ends up where ze belongs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where the Heart Is

**Author's Note:**

> Semi-graphic description of self-injury (cutting, burning). No trans* issues dealt with outside of "there are two trans* characters".

‘ _where are you?’_  Éponine texts, and it’s not something Enjolras expected. Ze had let them know multiple times that ze was spending the night, possibly even the next couple of days, at Combeferre’s with him and Courfeyrac.

“I fucking told them,” ze mutters darkly, a little bit frustrated. Courfeyrac shrugs.

“Yeah, well, people forget. You want me to text back?” He’s the one who read Éponine’s text to Enjolras—hands full as ze flips through books—in the first place, and so Enjolras nods.

“Just tell him I’m with you guys,” ze replies, and Courfeyrac taps away. Enjolras expects that to be the last of it, because Éponine and Grantaire know not to bother zir when ze’s working, but the phone dings again. Enjolras sighs, but when Courfeyrac checks the text, his lips press together harder and he hands the thing over to Enjolras.

_‘I knew that, sorry to ~disturb~ you. If you could spare a bit from the future of the world, I can’t get R out of the bathroom. Think he’s gonna hurt himself.’_ Enjolras stares at the screen, dread flooding zir, when another text pops up.

‘ _Sorry. Please come home._ ’

Enjolras doesn’t have to say anything: Combeferre and Courfeyrac understand without a word.

 

Ze doesn’t slam the door when ze gets home, but ze also doesn’t need to: Éponine is waiting right there, looking exhausted even though they saw each other a few hours ago.

“Thank God,” he mutters as he falls into Enjolras’ arms. They hug for a moment, just long enough to recuperate. Then Éponine pulls back and brushes a few strands of hair out of Enjolras’ face.

“How is he?” Enjolras asks, zir hands braced against Éponine’s forearms. Éponine sighs.

“He’ll respond on occasion, so I know he’s still…” Éponine shrugs: Enjolras understands the ‘still alive’. “But I can’t get in, even if I pick the lock on the door—he’ll put his hand over it and lock it again, so it’s useless. I know you’re… better with him.”

“Give me some time with him alone?” ze asks, and Éponine has no problem with that, nor with making a point of opening and closing the door to outside loudly.

“R?” ze says, striding down the hall to their bathroom. Ze raps gently on the door.

“Go away.” It sounds weak. Enjolras’ heart breaks a little.

“I’d rather not.” Ze taps two fingers gently against the door instead, not quite as loud as the knock. “Could you come out please?”

“No.” It’s choked. There is no denying that Grantaire is crying. “Just—leave me alone.” Against odds, Enjolras tries to turn the door handle. It doesn’t budge.

“I’m not leaving you.” It’s not even demanding, the way Enjolras says it: it’s just fact. Ze settles with zir back against the door to prove it. “Even if you won’t come out—or let me in.”

Enjolras doesn’t expect that to change anything, so when the door clicks a few moments later ze has to scramble so ze doesn’t fall over. “Hey,” ze says softly when Grantaire stumbles out and into zir arms. He buries his fact against Enjolras’ shoulder and gives a dry, shuddering sob.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and it’s quiet but so near Enjolras’ ear that ze cannot miss it. Thin fingers stroke through that mop of wild curls.

“It’s all right,” Enjolras says softly. “It’s okay, it’s going to be all right. Can you—if you did…” Enjolras can feel the movement of Grantaire’s throat when he swallows and the rise and fall of his chest from nerves. But Grantaire does pull away and then strips off the t-shirt he’s wearing, which Enjolras realizes is inside out.

The door to the apartment creaks open again, and Grantaire jumps a little but settles when he sees it’s just Éponine. Upon seeing Grantaire is out of the bathroom, Éponine’s entire demeanor changes. They can both see as some of the tension drains from his shoulders and a small smile works its way up.

“Hey,” Éponine says, walking toward Grantaire and Enjolras. “It’s good to see you.” Grantaire nods mutely, throat bobbing as he swallows a couple of times. Then Éponine gives a small, unintentional wince; Enjolras glances down to see the new burns littered across Grantaire’s side.

“Let us bandage them?” Enjolras says, a cross between a question and a command. Grantaire is twisting his t-shirt tight between his hands. Finally, he nods. Before Grantaire can change his mind, Éponine pries the over-rung fabric from his hands and guides him into the kitchen as Enjolras checks the medicine cabinet for antibiotic ointment and blister bandages. Ze finds them, and on the ground behind the toilet where Grantaire must have missed, tissues that have blood on them. It breaks zir heart to realize there are more marks, but ze calms any rising panic and goes to zir partners in the kitchen.

Grantaire is seated at the kitchen table, looking blank. Occasionally he winces when Éponine cleans a particularly rough burn, but mostly he is expressionless. Enjolras sets the other supplies on the table, takes one of Grantaire’s hands in zirs, and squeezes.

“Can I see the others?” ze asks softly, thumb stroking the back of Grantaire’s hand. That gets a reaction—startled—and then Grantaire nods.

When Grantaire takes his pants off, there are strips of folded toilet paper stuck to his thigh, so it at least makes sense why he hasn’t bled through his jeans. He looks so ridiculously small like this, and it reminds Enjolras of those long, long months back at the beginning when this was common and Enjolras only knew Éponine as “that girl Grantaire runs to when he doesn’t want to deal with things”. (Every part of that, ze later learned, was wrong, part of why things worked out.)

“Oh honey,” Éponine says softly when he sees, as Enjolras gently pulls the sticking tissue away. “It’s okay, we’re going to get you cleaned up.” Grantaire nods and then, for the first time in a while, actually speaks.

“Water,” he says, barely audible at first. “Could um—I can’t move, could one of you get me some water?” Éponine does and Grantaire downs the glass quickly. It seems like reality is sinking back in for him, and he rubs his forehead in the way they all know means a crying headache is settling in.

But he’s back with them, and that’s what is most important.

When the three of them have finished patching up the damage, and Grantaire has more water and two ibuprofen in him, they move to the bedroom. The couch would probably be better, because neither wants to worry about smothering Grantaire right now, but the only place they can all really fit comfortably is the bed and Grantaire insists. He settles in the center, position still a little bit defensive, but Éponine curls behind him, Enjolras in front, and they all make it work. Grantaire finally seems to have calmed down when he actually  _sees_  Enjolras, fully processes what zir being there means.

“Oh  _fuck_ ,” he says, “you were—fuck, shit, fuck,  _fuck_ , you were doing things weren’t you, God—fuck, I’m so sorry, you shouldn’t have—” Enjolras shuts him up by kissing him.

“I’m exactly where I  _should_  be,” ze says, and there is nothing truer in the world.


End file.
